


Violent Shiver

by warmommy



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Come Eating, Cuckolding, F/M, Filth, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 05:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmommy/pseuds/warmommy
Summary: Dick likes to watch Lewis fuck you, and Lewis loves fucking you in front of your boyfriend.





	Violent Shiver

**Author's Note:**

> More to be found at warmommy.com :)

His fingertips were beginning to get irritated with the sensation of dry paper. As a man constantly endorsing forms, typing reports, or reading files upon files upon files, it was an unpleasant occurrence. He placed a fresh sheet between the roller and the paper table and turned the knob, feeding the hungry beast of metal, ribbons, and keys. He stared at it. Oftentimes his fingertips, grated by the sensation of touching the paper, would warm those metal keys as he typed whole novels about what happened. In this place, he relived every awful moment and every triumph. His typewriter was another tool of war.

Someone tapped at his door.

Dick cleared his throat and reached for the cup of stale, cold coffee on the corner of his desk. “Enter.”

You opened the door with a tray of bread and jam some local had given you, and put it down on a stack of folders. You smiled and gave a little salute. “Captain Winters.”

“Lieutenant Y/N.”

“Okay, that really is enough, Dick.” You took his hat from his head and placed it across the keyboard. Before he could protest, you sat in his lap and cut him a slice of bread, slathered it with jam. “No, Dick, that’s enough. It’s late, and I know you haven’t eaten.”

He took it from you and bit into it, his fingers fleeing to trace absent patterns against the small of your back. Whenever you appeared, he always  _did_  start to wonder if he was just pushing himself  _too_  far, sprinting ahead of ‘above and beyond’ into some super-soldier territory, out past where he’d lose or destroy himself, if he didn’t rein himself in. It was hearing your own words in his own inner voice. Dick was tense even as he ate, even as he touched you, thinking about all the perceived failures he was perpetrating by simply eating food and touching the woman he loved rather than writing up another goddamn report.

“Hey, Red,” you whispered in his ear. You smirked close to his skin, ruffled his hair from its perfectly kept coiffure. “It’s Saturday night, and Lew’s in town.”

Dick stopped chewing, his fingers froze. “Is it okay if I ask him…to…”

“He said he came up here and hid some Vat 69 under our pillow, just in case.”

“And if we didn’t?”

“Then I suppose he would have snuck here in the night like a highwayman and absconded his disgusting whiskey.”

“You know I love you, don’t you?” he whispered with a wrinkled nose and a smile.

“I do,” you whispered in return, and kissed him softly, rubbed his shoulders. “I love you and I want you to be well-fed and drink plenty of water and sleep as much as you can, and…have as much fun as you want, the way that you want it.”

“You don’t have to,” Dick said quickly, eyes somewhat widening. He said it every time. Those thick eyelashes seemed to grow thicker every time. “Y/N, you know you don’t have to.”

Nixon tapped on the door, then, the first five beats of 'Shave and a Haircut’. He walked in, moved slowly, smiling at you both. “Hey, how’s it going?” He sauntered his way over to the bed, sat down on its side, and reached under the pillow, indeed pulling out a cool bottle of liquor. He lifted it and smiled at you both.

Dick did not say one word. No friendly, sardonic greeting, no chastisement for either the alcoholism or hiding his alcohol under their pillow. He was just looking at Lewis like his ability to breathe depended on what happened next.

Lewis smiled. “Y/N, going my way?”

You gave Dick a reassuring grin and leaned in to kiss him–

“Nope.” Lewis drew attention to himself sharply, quickly, with that one, simple, calm word. He was still smiling, and now beckoning you with his fingers. “Don’t do that. Come over here, you don’t belong over there.”

As soon as you reached the foot of the bed, Dick had already crossed the room to lock the door and set a chair in front of it. He sat in that chair, you could hear the squeak of its legs on the dusty wooden boards.

Lewis drained the last of his hip flask’s contents and set it by the fresh bottle, over on the makeshift bedside table. You weren’t supposed to be sharing a bed with Dick, but you were. He smiled at you again, reached for your arm, and pulled you down into  _his_  lap. His hands massaged your hips while he exhaled against the shell of your ear, down the side of your neck.

“Tell me you’re happier,” he whispered, licking a stripe up your skin. He wasn’t satisfied by the strangled gasp of a moan. “Tell me I’m the one that gets you wet like this.”

Lewis pushed your hair away from your neck so he could do more, take more. You felt his teeth on your bare skin and your nails scraped against his shoulder, scraped against the heavy fabric. He kissed and bit at your neck until you squirmed in his lap.

“I bet he doesn’t do this to you.” Lewis’s hands grasped you more firmly about the hips and he pushed you over on the bed, put you on your back, and he followed, knees bent, one between your legs, one planted beside your left thigh. He kissed your lips, now, hard and deep, suffocatingly, unrelentingly, a war between mouths, impassioned in battle. He moved his hands upward, although his grip never faltered. They  _squeezed_  and dragged your shirt up in their wake; Lewis’s thumbs pushed against your skin and he liked the warmth. “Tell me he never does it to you like this,” he whispered. “Tell  _him_  that. You tell him how fucking wet I make you.”

He tasted like booze, a bit like some piece of fruit he must’ve eaten on the way there, swallowed down with more booze. You could feel him jutting hard against your body and you closed your eyes, face flushed. “Lew, you–”

“No,” he said firmly, arm pressing down across your chest. He kissed you again. “Tell Dick. Tell Dick who really makes your pussy wet. Tell Dick who you’re thinking about when he fucks you.”

“Lewis,” you whispered hoarsely, a little breathless from the heaviness of his form on top of yours. “When you fuck me, Dick, I’m only thinking about Lewis.”

Nixon reached in between you and unbuckled your belt with rapid intent. He ran his fingers carefully through your folds and chuckled. “Holy  _shit_ , Dick, you’re nowhere near man enough to’ve done this, yourself.” He slipped in two fingers and pumped them slowly. His chuckle was breathy. “She’s losing her mind, Winters. Listen to that, listen…”

When he twisted his fingers inside you, you yelped and moaned. You were presented with those same two fingers, right on the edge of your lip, and you sucked them obediently. Lewis rose up on his knees, chuckled again as he looked down at you. “Hey Dick, come take her pants off. Don’t touch her.”

Lewis wouldn’t let you break eye contact with him. Dick’s footfalls were light and quick across the attic floor, and you could feel him tugging off your boots, pulling the trousers off of you by the fabric gathered at the knees. Lewis was still smirking down at you, though, still had his fingers in your mouth. He wasn’t going to acknowledge Dick again unless he needed him, and, following some unvoiced command precisely, Dick went right back to his chair when your lower half was bare.

The rest of your clothes went the same route, and Lew kissed you again. This time, he was fumbling with the buckle of his own belt. “Who’s fucking you tonight?”

“You,” you whispered, in a state of semi-frantic desire. He sucked your nipple into his mouth all while struggling to kick off his pants, harder and harder. You gasped and moaned, knees tensing, thighs wedged further apart. “Nix, you’re fucking me.  _You_.”

“Lewis.”

Before you could repeat his correction, Lewis moved smoothly, quickly, up to the hilt, and smirking down at you like always while he listened to you gasp, cry out, let all the breath be pressed from your lungs.

“She is…” Lewis tipped his head back, but his hips didn’t let up for even half a beat. “God, Jesus fucking Christ, Dick, don’t you ever let this pussy slip through my fingers.”

You heard Dick breathing heavily, but Lewis held your jaw firmly before you could look at him.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he whispered, dark eyes peering down into yours with just a hint of a wink. “You know, every single time I say this pussy is mine, every time I tell Dick he’s not getting you back, I feel you get tighter. Tell 'im you don’t want 'im anymore. Tell 'im who you belong to, Y/N.”

He always made it easier for you, easier to say this sort of thing, reminded you it was just a fantasy, nothing more. You swallowed and gripped at his dark hair. “You’re the only one man enough to have this pussy. God, Lewis…” You squeezed his hips just as hard as he’d squeezed yours before, added to the heft of every thrust. “Fuck me harder, Lewis, fuck me like a real man, not like Dick…”

He growled playfully and kissed you hard. “My baby, Y/N,  _my_  fuckin’ girl, tell 'im how much you fucking love it when your man comes around.”

Your thighs squeezed around his hips, tighter and tighter. “I only want–fuck–I only want Lewis, I only want…”

Nixon took in a sharp breath. “Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N, don’t come until I tell you to. That’s it…who’re you gonna beg to let you come? He can’t make you come, can he?”

One time, you’d accidentally called him Dick, and he wouldn’t let you come for hours. You almost made that mistake again, but caught yourself. “No, he can’t Lew. Lewis,  _please_  I won’t be able to come again until you come back…”

You could  _hear_  the smile in his voice, and he was suddenly moving deeperdeeper _deeper_ …

“Good girl.”

You felt Lewis’s hand clamp down over your mouth just in time. It felt like all that blood that had been coursing through you at the speed of sound had just halted, as if everything had just halted, stopped, and all the beauty of being and creation was reverberating through  _you_  as everything else froze in time and space. He was fast to follow, his hand tightening ever-slightly against your fast, fingers squeezing your jaw, but you didn’t care.

What felt like danger was actually controlled, due course of nature. You felt unable to catch your breath, your blood pressure too high to be able to achieve a fully conscious state again, but there it was. Your limbs were loose, akimbo, and Lewis’s laugh, his kisses, they were friendly.

Dick was a vision fit for only the filthiest, holiest of Dionysian bacchanalia. You were finally allowed to look at him while Lew put his clothes back on.

Once his hat with its twin gold bars once again sat tilted on his head, Nixon slapped your thigh and glanced up at Dick with a gleam in his eyes. He buttoned his cuffs, then picked up that bottle of Vat 69 and his empty flask.

“Hey, Dick,” he called as he crossed the attic floor, headed towards the door. He gave a slight nod in your direction. “Clean that up.”

Dick knelt beside the bed and dragged you to the edge of it, arms hooked around your knees. You laughed softly and squealed, overstimulated, when his tongue swirled around your clit. It was such a dirty thought, the cherry on top of it all, how Lew always set you up for this, for Dick licking his cum from between your legs. He could take only thirty seconds of that, though, and then he’d be naked from the waist down, a bruising grip on your thigh.

When Dick stood up and started fucking you earnest, you smiled lovingly up at him, though his eyes were closed.

“Do you do it because you love me? Because he tells you to do it it?” you asked.

Dick was far less in control of himself than Lewis. He fucked like something wild, and you supposed maybe it was because he spent every waking moment of his life so tightly in control, so wrapped up in fixed pressures.

“I do it because I love you, because he tells me to do it,” he huffed. “I do it because you want me to have as much fun as I want, the way that I want it.”

You couldn’t argue with that logic.


End file.
